Elastic Heart
by Alexabee
Summary: Gale bets cocky Katniss Everdeen that she can't seduce Peeta Mellark, the pastor's son. An AU fic based loosely on the movie Cruel Intentions. Keywords: Everlark, Cruel Intentions, pastor's son, FFM threesome, sexual content, romance, drama.
1. Chapter 1

The first thing I hear when I get home from my after school job are Madge Undersee's moans coming from behind my bedroom door.

"Fuck, Gale," I mutter, shrugging off my father's old leather jacket and dropping my keys on the kitchen table. I knew he was bringing her over tonight, but I've told him a million times that he can't start with this shit until after Prim is asleep. I may only be sixteen, but I'm the closest thing my little sister has to a mother since our own died last winter, and I don't want her hearing those sex sounds. She'd be scarred for life.

I turn the corner into the living room to find Prim cocooned in a flannel blanket, sitting on the carpet just inches away from the blaring television. There's an empty cereal bowl in her lap.

"Hey, Katniss," she smiles up at me.

"Hay is for horses," I answer playfully, just the way our father used to before the mining accident that took his life. It was the same accident that killed Gale's father too, and the reason why our families ended up pooling our resources and living together under the same roof - without those incomes, we were too poor to survive any other way. It's only recently that Gale's mother found a steady job at an industrial laundry in another town and took her three youngest children along with her, leaving us with this empty, old bungalow in a run-down neighborhood known as The Seam.

I sit down next to Prim and tuck a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. "Is that all you had for dinner tonight? Cereal?"

"No. Gale made me spaghetti," she answers. "There's a plate for you in the kitchen, too. I just wanted to stay up to make sure you got it."

I chuckle to myself. "Exactly who is taking care of who, here?"

"Oh, Katniss!" Prim sighs in that motherly way that's beyond her twelve years. "We take care of each other. And I think you need to eat more."

"And I think you need to get to bed," I laugh. "C'mon. You have school in the morning."

But Prim is right – I don't eat enough. After I tuck her in and make sure her bedroom door is tightly closed, I put the plate of spaghetti in the fridge so she can have it for lunch tomorrow. Then I walk down the hall and stop outside my bedroom door.

The light is still on. That's my cue to enter.

I ease the door open and slip inside. Madge is lying on her back in the middle of the bed, eyes tightly closed, long blonde hair spilling over the pillow. Her legs are wrapped around Gale's head. She's still moaning so loudly that she hasn't even heard me come in.

I silently watch the two of them for a minute, Gale, gripping her ass in his hands as he buries his face between her legs; Madge's toes, curling and uncurling with pleasure. She's got the palest, creamiest skin I've ever seen, and probably the nicest tits, too – pert and round, with bright pink nipples that she keeps pinching and tugging on as Gale goes down on her.

But Madge's best feature is that she doesn't annoy me. She's the mayor's daughter, but she's not stuck up about it. That's why I suggested her when Gale asked me who he should bring home for his next challenge.

It's just this little game we like to play.

I pull my bra and sweater over my head in one move and toss them onto the floor as I approach the bed. Gale knows I'm here without even having to look up. I can tell because he's showing off for me, moaning in response to each twitch of Madge's hips, telling her how he loves the way she's dripping down his chin. He knows exactly what to say, and it's turning me on. But Madge doesn't actually notice my presence until I drop my pants and climb onto the bed next to her.

"Oh! Katniss!" she chokes when her eyes pop open. Her hands scramble down to push Gale away.

"It's fine," he tells her, looking up from between her thighs and smiling at me. "Katniss is into it if you are."

Madge glances between us, her cheeks flushed. "Yeah?"

I nod. "I overheard you two and thought I'd join in." And then to prove how much I like it, I lean down and kiss Gale deeply, tasting her musk on his tongue. I feel him smile a little bit against my lips, gloating. _Look who I got. I win._

I nip at his bottom lip before pulling away. _Yeah, Yeah. Way to go._

Madge is still a little stunned when Gale's head dips down between her legs once more and I start to kiss a trail up from her bellybutton, but she doesn't protest. None of the girls or guys Gale and I bring home ever do, especially not once they realize how good two pairs of lips feel against their skin.

When I pull Madge's hands away from her breasts and pin them to the bed so I can suck those perfect, pink nipples into my mouth, she gasps and arches up towards me.

"Katniss," she murmurs breathlessly.

Gale may have been the one who got her into bed, but that's not _his_ name on her lips.

* * *

"So?" Gale grins when he returns from walking Madge home. She'd reached for my hand and asked me to come as well, but I made up some excuse about being exhausted and not having eaten dinner yet. Then I promptly flopped down on the couch in front of the T.V. as soon as she was out the door. I still haven't moved.

"Yeah, it was good," I answer, flipping through the channels.

"_Good?_" Gale scoffs. "I seem to remember you coming pretty damn hard when she was licking your pussy."

"She was great," I admit. What Madge lacked in experience she made up for in eagerness. "It's just that I don't really know what else you want me to say."

Gale laughs in disbelief as he sinks down on the other side of the couch."You're kidding, right? That's the mayor's daughter, Katniss. I got _Mayor Undersee's daughter_ into bed with us, and you don't think congratulations are in order?"

I suppress a smile and start to rub my foot up and down Gale's thigh. It's funny when he gets all worked up about one of his conquests.

"It's all about social status for you, isn't it?" I tease. "Merchant, Seam, Mayor's daughter - what does it matter? Everyone likes a good, hard fuck once in a while, no matter where they're from."

Gale snorts.

"I'm just saying," I shrug mischievously. "I'm not going to give you a special award for something that I could've done myself."

"Seriously? You think you could've seduced Madge Undersee yourself?"

"I think she likes me. She was saying my name, after all."

"So? She was riding my dick!" Gale challenges.

We glare at each other for a moment before simultaneously breaking into laughter.

"Fine, Gale," I giggle, sitting up. "Congratulations. It was good, it really was. Is that what you want to hear?" I straddle his lap and start to undo his jeans.

"Yes," he grunts as I slip my hand under the waistband of his shorts.

These people we bring home from time to time, they're just the opening act, the teaser for what we do together once we're alone. Gale and I aren't dating each other, exactly. And we're definitely not in love – I'm never going to fall in love – but we are best friends, and we like to fuck. There aren't any emotional strings attached. It's just something that evolved out of a mutual need to escape the stress and grief of our daily lives.

"By the way, thanks for not letting Prim just eat cereal for dinner tonight," I mention as I sink down to my knees and lift Gale's thickening cock out of his shorts. He slides both of his hands into my hair and squeezes.

"Did you eat yet?" he exhales heavily.

"No," I mumble into his skin. "This first." I've been craving the heat and weight of him in my mouth ever since watching him drive into Madge, expertly bringing her to orgasm. I'm wondering if his skin will still taste like her when he suddenly grips my hair and pulls me back.

I look up questioningly.

"You really think you could've gotten her by yourself?" he asks. "Tell me. Honestly."

"Yeah, Gale. I could've gotten her."

"Fine then," he decides. "If you think it's so easy, then you bring home the next one."

"Alright."

"And I'll choose who it is," he adds.

"Fine," I agree with a smirk. "No problem. Are you gonna tell me who you want right now, or should I wait?"

Gale narrows his eyes contemplatively. "I'm going to think about it," he decides.

Then he guides my head back down.

* * *

The next morning, I'm getting ready to walk Prim to school when Gale emerges from the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What now?" I groan. That look always means trouble.

"I've decided who your challenge will be," he says, pausing to take a bite of his toast.

"Yeah, who?"

"_Peeta Mellark,_" he announces through a mouthful of crumbs.

I shoot him a withering look. "Are you kidding me, Hawthorne?" Peeta Mellark is in my grade at school. He works at the bakery just down the street from the taxidermy place where I skin and prepare dead animals every afternoon.

He's also the son of the most prominent pastor in this two-bit town.

"Why would I be kidding?" Gale asks smugly. "You said it didn't matter who someone was or where they were from – everyone likes to fuck."

For a moment I'm speechless. Then I put on what I hope is an indifferent expression and grab my leather jacket.

"Whatever," I bluff. "I just never knew you had a thing for bakers, Gale."

"What's going on?" Prim asks, suddenly appearing at my side. "What are you two talking about?"

I shove her lunch bag into her hands.

"Nothing, Prim. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

I bite my fingernails and study the back of Peeta Mellark's neck as he takes his seat in front of me in Biology.

It's a nice neck. Muscular and expressive, fringed by dirty blond curls that are slightly damp. He must've just had P.E.

I realize then that I really wouldn't mind putting my lips on that neck, whether it was a bet or not. I just have no idea how I'm ever supposed to make that happen. I'm pretty sure Peeta doesn't even know I exist, and even if he did—

"Hi Katniss."

I look up to find Madge Undersee sitting down at the desk across from mine. She puts down her books and gives me a soft-eyed smile.

"Hey," I return. I hope she doesn't think that there's more to our casual friendship just because we had sex last night, but judging by the look on her face, she does.

Well, I can't encourage that.

Madge licks her lips and looks like she's about to say something more, but I quickly turn my attention to the front of the room and keep it there until class starts, shutting down any potential conversation. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hurt expression.

God, I'm an asshole.

Maybe Gale really is the better 'hunter' of the two of us. None of the girls he's hooked up with at the slag heap have ever formed an attachment. None of the guys I've picked up have, either, but they've always been Gale's age or older. I've never run the risk of seeing them at school the next day.

I spend the rest of the class thinking maybe I should just give up on the whole plan to seduce Peeta.

When the bell finally rings, Madge jumps up and storms out so quickly that the loose papers on my desk go sailing onto the floor in her wake.

"Great," I mutter, leaning down to collect them.

Surprisingly, the blonde head in front of me ducks down to do the same. When I pull myself back up, Peeta Mellark's face is just inches away from mine.

"Lost this, too," he smiles, holding something out to me. It takes me a moment to actually look and see what it is because I'm temporarily stunned by how attractive he is up close. I've never noticed it before, but he has the longest eyelashes.

"Isn't this your pen?" he asks when he notices my hesitation.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks," I answer hoarsely, taking it from his hand. And then I'm distracted again, this time by his warm skin and thick fingers. As a baker, I bet he's good with his hands...

Peeta smiles at me once more, but I know it doesn't mean anything. He's just civil like that. As the pastor's son, he's probably required to be polite to everyone.

But then, just as he's turning away, I catch him ever so casually glance down at my lips. It's only for a split second, but I've seen that look of longing on men's faces before.

And just like that, the plan to fuck Peeta Mellark is back on.

* * *

The next weekend, I find myself perusing the pastry case at _Uprising Breads_, the bakery where Peeta works. I can't actually afford any of the fruit tarts or frosted cupcakes on display, but that's not really why I'm here.

"So, any idea of what your sister would like for her birthday?" he asks from behind the counter for the second or third time. That's the story I'd come in with – that I was looking for something for Prim. In reality, her birthday is still a good eight weeks away.

"Um," I say. _Come on Katniss! Flirt!_ "I think I need a few more minutes."

"Okay."

Ugh. I am failing miserably at this. I'm used to being very direct about what – or who – I want. I don't fear rejection because I've been with enough guys at this point to know how most of them think, and they're easy. I know I have something men want and it hardly takes any effort on my part to entice them. But even if Peeta does want me, I doubt he'd respond to a straightforward offer. He's way too much of a goody-goody for that. So I have to think of some cute, coy way to get him talking.

I glance up. He's watching me.

"Um… maybe something custom?" I suggest.

"A custom cake?"

"Yeah." I'm at a total loss.

But Peeta just smiles.

"You came to the right person," he says. Then he grabs a book from under the counter and flips it open so I can see inside. It's full of photos of beautifully decorated cakes.

"You made all these?" I ask, raising my eyebrows in surprise. They're gorgeous. They look like they came right out of a magazine.

"The decorating is my job," Peeta answers proudly. "See anything here that you like? These ones are layer cakes filled with custard and fruit."

"Prim doesn't like custard. Maybe a chocolate cake with just the fruit? And pink icing," I muse aloud, losing myself in those beautiful pictures.

And then it hits me. I know exactly what to say.

"Actually... okay, this is going to sound stupid," I giggle, "but do you have any duck cakes?"

"Ducks?" Peeta laughs. "Like, duck-shaped?"

I smile and lean against the counter, offering him a good view down my shirt.

"Yeah. You see, my sister, her nickname is 'Little Duck.' I think my dad gave it to her back when he was teaching us to swim out at the lake." That last part may not be entirely true – I don't actually remember how Prim got her nickname – but it doesn't matter. Peeta and I are finally talking.

"I could probably come up with something duck-ish," he grins. Then he produces a piece of scrap paper and starts to sketch out a shape. "Like this?"

"That's perfect," I breathe without even looking down at his drawing.

* * *

When the cake arrives three days later, Gale opens the box and stares at it in disbelief.

"I thought the challenge was to bring home the baker, Katniss, not the _bakery_," he laughs. "How much did this cost you?"

"It wasn't that much," I lie.

Actually, the invoice for the duck cake is sixty bucks and I don't know how on earth I'm going to pay it. But at least the 'early birthday present' delighted Prim. The duck is even holding a spun sugar flower in its bill – a primrose, I realize a second later.

A primrose for Primrose. Wow. That was really sweet and thoughtful of Peeta.

"I hope he at least gave you a discount," Gale chuckles, cutting a slice for himself. "So. When are you gonna fuck him?"

When I don't answer, he really starts to laugh. "Oh shit, Catnip! Shit! You didn't just buy this as an excuse to talk him up, did you? Do you just want to admit defeat and call off the challenge before we end up with a whole barnyard of cakes? What's next – a chicken? A pig?"

"Oh, shut up!" I snap, in no mood for Gale's teasing. "I don't know what you're talking about. The cake is for Prim!"

* * *

The next day at school, I wait until Peeta is alone by his locker before approaching him.

"Hey," I smile, hugging my books to my chest.

"Hey, Katniss," he replies warmly. "Did you get the cake? I hope your sister liked it."

"She did," I answer. "It was amazing. Thank you. It was a million times better than anything I ever could've put together."

I wish I could express just how incredible he is for having put so much thought and care into that cake, and how much it meant to see Prim that happy, but the words don't come. The two of us just stand there in awkward silence.

"Well, anytime," Peeta eventually says, slamming his locker shut. "See you around."

"Wait," I blurt out. This could be my last opportunity to strike up a conversation with him.

"Yeah?"

Damn it! What do I say? What could I possibly have in common with a pastor's kid?

"Uh, I was thinking about maybe… coming to church this Sunday."

Peeta looks at me hard.

"You want to come to church?"

"Yes," I say, hoping to convince us both. "I mean, it's been so long."

The truth is, I haven't set foot in a church since my father's funeral. Ever since then, just being near a churchyard makes me sick to my stomach. "Your dad is, um…" Oh fuck. What's the word I'm looking for? "Your dad is _speaking_ this Sunday, right?"

Peeta sort of smirks.

"Yeah, he's preaching. As usual."

_Preaching._ That's what it's called.

"Okay, great. I can't wait," I say brightly.

"Okay then," Peeta answers. I think I catch him shaking his head a little bit as he starts to turn away. Then he stops abruptly and faces me once more. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"What?"

"The church thing."

I shrug. "But I want to."

"_You?_" he asks incredulously. "You, of all people, want to go to church?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

Peeta laughs once and looks off to the side, debating his next words. Then he turns his gaze back on me and lowers his voice. "Look, Madge is my friend, okay? I know exactly what kind of thing you and Gale Hawthorne are interested in, and it's not church. So whatever game you're playing right now, you can just stop."

I stare at Peeta in disbelief. So Madge told him everything, did she? Is he going to get all sanctimonious and judgmental with me now?

I'm suddenly appalled that I ever actually liked him.

"Fuck you," I spit as I walk away.

* * *

Gale can tell that I'm upset about something when I get home from work that night.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, rubbing my back gently.

I shrug his hands away.

"No. I just want to fuck."

I can't quite figure out why Peeta's words managed to upset me so much. He's just some stupid bet, after all. But it's only once my wrists are tied to the bedposts and Gale is holding my knees apart, roughly slamming into me, that I'm finally able to forget about it.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you to my wonderful betas Soamazinghere and Aslmere for all their help!_

* * *

The next day in Biology, I ditch my regular seat and take the one in the far back corner instead. No one ever sits there because the chair has a wobbly leg, but I'll gladly put up with that inconvenience if it means I don't have to sit near Peeta.

Even from a distance, he's somehow managed to annoy me all day long. First, it was his essay being praised in English class. Then it was his stupidly beautiful painting being displayed on the wall of the art classroom. Finally, it was his shiny little name glinting at me from the wrestling team's plaque in the trophy case.

Mr. Perfect, Peeta Mellark.

I'm acutely aware of his presence once he enters the classroom and takes his seat, but I keep my head down and refuse to actually look in his direction. I only have to make it through the rest of this hour, I tell myself. Then I'll pick up Prim from the middle school and take her home before I have to—

Unexpectedly, a piece of paper lands on my desk, startling me.

I haven't been paying attention to what's happening in class. A sign-up sheet for the upcoming ecosystems research project is being passed around, and, thanks to my new seating choice, I'm the last person in the room to get it.

I scan the sheet and groan softly when I realize there's only one space left.

My project partner for the next four weeks will be none other than Mr. Perfect himself.

* * *

Peeta appears at my locker the next day just before lunch.

"So, I guess we'll be working together," he says.

He probably thinks I orchestrated that, too.

"Lucky us," I sneer before slamming my locker door shut and heading outside. Peeta follows me to the picnic table where I sit each day and stands there as I unwrap my sandwich.

"Y'know, Katniss, we're going to have to at least be able to talk to each other," he finally says. When I don't reply, he sighs and sits down across from me.

Then he takes out his own brown paper lunch bag.

"What are you doing?" I ask incredulously.

"Eating," he answers.

I just stare at him. He can't be serious.

I throw my sandwich back into my bag and stand up, prepared to walk away, when he suddenly shoves a cheese-topped bun across the table towards me.

"I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday," he says. "It was way out of line."

I draw my eyebrows together in confusion. _He's_ apologizing to _me_?

I don't know exactly what to say, so I just gesture to the pastry in front of me. "Is this supposed to be some kind of peace offering?"

The corners of Peeta's mouth curve upwards.

"Yeah, sorta. Is it working?"

It is, and so is that damn heartwarming smile of his, but I'll never admit it. I just sit down once again, rip off a corner of the cheese bun and pop it into my mouth.

"So. How much do you know much about aquatic ecosystems?" Peeta grins.

* * *

We arrange to meet up at the lake before school the next morning to catalogue how different species make use of the water. But after just a few minutes of taking notes, we cast our notebooks aside and end up sitting side-by-side on the edge of the dock, grazing our bare toes across the glassy surface of the water below.

As it turns out, Peeta is the most interesting specimen at the lake. I learn that he plays guitar on Sundays at church. I learn that he hates sugar in his tea. I learn that his favorite color is orange – not bright orange, but soft, sunset orange – and that he has two older brothers. The oldest is away at seminary, studying to become a pastor just like their father, and his other brother has been backpacking around South America since graduation last spring.

"And what are you going to do after graduation?" I ask, expecting a predictable stock answer about going to college and getting married.

Peeta only shrugs.

"I don't know," he says. "My oldest brother is one of those people who always knew exactly what he was going to do with his life. He's probably going to finish his degree, marry his girlfriend, get a job in the church right away and be perfectly happy with that, you know what I mean?"

I nod in understanding, though I can't relate to what he's saying at all. I can't imagine getting married and being happy. I can't even picture going to college. I'll probably just end up staying in town and working to support Prim.

"And then there's my other brother, who goes out of his way to be the exact opposite," Peeta continues, shaking his head.

"A rebel?"

Peeta laughs. "Well, that's what he thinks he is, but he's not, really. Growing up with your dad as the pastor, you just feel so pressured to be perfect. Some kids just say 'Forget it, I can't live up to that.' I think traveling is his way of trying to escape." Peeta pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "Both of my brothers are reacting to people's expectations of them, just in opposite ways. But I don't want any of my choices to be dictated by what people think of me. I just want to be true to myself."

I don't know what to say to that, so I just smile. All this talk about being true to yourself is suddenly making me uncomfortable.

"So, tell me about your life," Peeta says. "All I know is that you have a sister named Primrose who doesn't like custard."

"Um, well," I start, but nothing in my life is exactly small talk material. What am I supposed to say? _Well, Peeta, my parents are dead, I work with animal carcasses to support myself, and I live with my best friend who I also fuck, as you already know._

Luckily, Peeta seems to sense my distress and clears his throat. "You said your father used to take you and your sister to this lake?" he prompts.

"Yes. Yeah, years ago," I answer with a rush of relief. "He taught us to swim and fish."

"How old were you?"

I have to think for a minute. It's a memory I haven't indulged too much in recent years. "Maybe seven or eight?"

Peeta suddenly chuckles to himself. "Want to know something embarrassing?"

"Sure."

"I still don't know how to swim," he admits.

"Really?" Finally, something Mr. Perfect can't do! Before I even know what I'm saying, words start falling out of my mouth. "Are you sure you should be sitting on the edge of the dock right now? What if you fell in?" I shove Peeta's shoulder playfully and he laughs.

"By 'fall in' do you mean 'get pushed into the lake by Katniss Everdeen'? Because that's a very real possibility."

"Hey, I'm just trying to teach you a basic survival skill."

"By drowning me? That's an interesting method. Remind me not to take any of your classes."

"Oh please," I laugh. "I wouldn't let you drown. I'd jump in and save you!"

"Really?" Peeta inquires, shuffling himself a little further towards the edge of the dock. "Are you prepared to stand by that statement?"

"Yes. Now back up!"

Peeta eyes me mischievously and grips the edge of the platform, leaning out over the water.

"Seriously, Peeta, stop it." He's honestly starting to freak me out.

"I might slip," he jokes.

And then he suddenly pitches forward.

Without thinking, I throw my arms across his chest and shove him backwards, slamming him flat against the wooden dock and pinning him there.

Peeta just stares up at me with wide eyes, shocked and winded.

"Peeta, stop!" I say belatedly, meaning to chastise him, but it comes out as a whimper. My eyes start to water up as the adrenaline rush subsides.

"I'm sorry," Peeta chokes out once he catches his breath. "I was just kidding around."

"You scared the shit out of me," I say shakily. I don't know why I'm on the verge of tears over some dumb joke of his, but I am. He really could've fallen in and drowned. I blink out two fat tears. They land squarely in the middle of Peeta's chest, soaking into his grey t-shirt.

His face instantly falls.

"Oh, Katniss, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats. He reaches up and smoothes his hands over my shoulders and hair, but for some reason this action makes me cry even harder. Peeta sits up and wraps his arms around me, holding me against his shoulder, apparently unconcerned that I might get snot and tears all over his shirt.

"I'm sorry," I sniffle a minute later, completely embarrassed. "I never cry. I don't know why I'm crying. I'm sorry."

"Everyone cries," answers Peeta. "Don't apologize." He continues to stroke my hair in a rhythmic, almost hypnotic way.

I could get used to the feeling of Peeta playing with my hair.

"Um, I think I made a mess of your shirt," I finally mumble, pulling away. I give him a weak smile.

"Don't worry about it," Peeta answers. But he doesn't smile back. He just looks kind of stunned.

I must've completely weirded him out by crying all over him.

I wipe my face on my sleeve and reach for my notebook. "Let's just get back to work," I suggest, avoiding eye contact.

"Okay," Peeta agrees.

* * *

After that, I tell Peeta that I can't meet up at the lake before school anymore because I'm too busy at home. He accepts my excuse and leaves me alone for a few days, though it's clear he can tell that I'm lying.

Then one evening he shows up at my work just as I'm finishing a shift.

"Can you come out to the lake for little while?" he asks. "I promise I won't try to 'swim' again. And I brought doughnut holes," he adds, holding up a paper bag.

I've got to admit, Peeta knows the way to my heart.

It's only once we're at the lake's edge yet again, silently polishing off the bag of pastries, that I find the courage to ask the question that's been on my mind.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I croak. I've sworn at him, lied to him, and made a complete fool of myself in front of him, but he keeps coming back. And he keeps bringing me treats like cheese buns and doughnuts on top of it all.

Peeta digs the toes of his sneakers into the pebbly shore and suddenly starts to act shy.

"There's a reason I signed up to research aquatic ecosystems, Katniss," he finally reveals. "I remembered the story you told me that day you came in to the bakery - the one about swimming at the lake with your family. And I was hoping that meant you'd pick a project that would give you reason to come back here."

I press my lips together, looking down at cinnamon-sugar doughnut in my hand. So Peeta _wanted_ to be my partner all along?

I suddenly feel incredibly guilty for all the uncharitable thoughts I've had towards him. I don't deserve his kindness.

"I just want to tell you that what you said to me the other day was true," I blurt out. "I mean, the stuff about Gale and Madge and what we do. So you shouldn't have apologized."

"It was still unfair of me to make assumptions about you," Peeta counters. "Maybe you are into church. Who am I to say?"

"I'm not," I admit reluctantly.

Peeta shrugs.

"Me neither," he confesses moment later.

I just stare at him in disbelief as he casually picks up a flat stone and skips it across the surface of the lake.

"But your dad's the pastor!"

Peeta sighs. "Yeah, he is. But I'm not him, Katniss."

I look out over the lake as he skips another stone. Suddenly all his talk about staying true to himself makes perfect sense, and I realize I've made my fair share of unfair assumptions about him, too.

"Then I guess I owe you an apology as well."

"Apology accepted," he smiles.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're cheerful," Gale notices a few nights later when I get home from the lake. "Good thing, too. You were starting to wear out that scowl."

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," I answer, kicking off my shoes and flopping down on the couch. I rest my head on Gale's lap and smile up at him. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"It turns out our friend Peeta isn't exactly who we expected him to be."

Gale looks somewhat impressed. "He's got a wild side?"

"Well, I don't know about that," I admit. "But we definitely didn't give him enough credit. He's not the innocent little church boy everyone thinks he is."

In the name of no longer judging each other by our reputations, Peeta and I have started playing a question-and-answer game we call _Real or Not Real_. It's sort of like truth or dare, without the dares. He loves it because he feels like someone is finally getting to know him beyond his status as the pastor's son, and I love it because I get to indulge my natural tendency to be blunt. Tonight we spent more time playing _Real or Not Real_ than working on our biology project.

"So what you're saying is that it should be easier now for you to get him into bed?" Gale teases before I can explain about the game. And just like that, my buoyant mood vanishes.

I sit up and draw my knees to my chest.

"Jesus, Katniss! You're all over the place lately. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Maybe I'm just sick of hearing about that stupid bet all the time," I snap.

"You were the one who brought it up," Gale points out. "Why else would you come over here and start talking to me about Peeta Mellark?"

Gale is right. I feel guilty for talking about Peeta like he's just some game when we've finally started to become real friends, but the truth is, the point was never to make a new friend. The goal was to seduce the pastor's son, win the bet with Gale, and throw some of that cocky Hawthorne attitude back in his face. I forgot about that and somehow let my feelings get involved, and now I'm taking out my frustration on my best friend.

It's just because it's taking so long, that's all. I've never actually gotten to know any of the other people I've fucked, and it's throwing me off a little.

"It doesn't matter - I know I've got it in the bag," I retort, trying to sound confident. "This dumb research project has just slowed things down. But I'll be fucking his brains out by the time our paper is handed in. You'll see."

The more I say, the guiltier I feel.

Gale raises his eyebrows as if he doesn't quite believe me, then turns his attention back to the T.V.

"Do you like him?" he suddenly asks.

"What?"

We stare at each other, but Gale doesn't repeat himself, and I don't answer the question.

"Where's Prim?" I ask a moment later, changing the subject.

"In bed. We had beans and rice for dinner. She left a bowl for you in the kitchen, if you want it."

Now I feel really awful. Hanging out with Peeta has distracted me from more than just the challenge – I've also been neglecting my sister, and that scares me a little.

Before I can say another word, Gale stands up. "I'm going to hit the hay," he announces with a yawn. "Goodnight."

As he walks by, I reach out and hook my fingers through one of his belt loops, pulling him towards me.

"What are you doing?" he asks, stumbling into the edge of the couch.

I rise up onto my knees and start unbuttoning his pants.

"Katniss," Gale mumbles, gently prying my hands away. He's not in the mood, but I want to make it up to him, and this is the only way I know how.

"Let me," I insist, tearing open his fly and tugging his shorts down. I dig my fingers into his muscular thighs and pull him closer, kissing his taut lower abdomen, nuzzling my face into the trail of dark hair below his navel.

"Katniss," Gale repeats as I sink down a little lower and start teasing him with my tongue. He's getting harder by the second, but his body is unusually rigid and he's not putting his hands on me. He's resisting.

"I want your cock," I tell him. "I want you to fuck my mouth. I want to feel you come."

Gale groans softly as I part my lips and take him in as deep as I can. "Shit," he mutters under his breath, then grips the back of the couch with both hands, finally giving in.

The next time he says my name, it's when he climaxes.

Only then am I able to convince myself that things are back to normal between us.

* * *

I wake up the next morning with renewed resolve to focus solely on the challenge of getting Peeta into bed. No more playing _Real or Not Real_ or crying all over him and letting him stroke my hair, no matter how nice it might feel. I can't keep putting Gale and Prim aside to spend my evenings at the lake – they're my family and my priority, after all.

I manage to make it through my morning classes without speaking to Peeta, even though not talking to him just causes me think about him even more. By eleven, I'm starting to seriously miss him. There's a hollow spot inside of me that longs for his company. So when lunchtime rolls around and sits down across from me - not even asking first, just sitting down and smiling at me like we're old friends - I can't find it in me to do anything but smile back.

"Delly Cartwright can be the most annoying person on the face of the planet – real or not real?" is the first thing he says.

I burst out laughing and forget all about my resolution.

Delly's father is an elder in the church. She sings in the choir, is the most outspoken member of the youth group, and loves Jesus with the sort of enthusiasm that leaves everyone around her exhausted.

She also wants to get on Peeta's dick in the most painfully obvious way.

"Hi Peeta!" Delly chirps, appearing at our table moments later. "Hi Katniss," she adds, smiling at me timidly, as if she's afraid that my bad reputation might be contagious. "I just came over to invite you to the prayer meeting we're holding tonight at my house," she continues, addressing Peeta. "It would mean so much to have such a strong, godly example there for the younger members of the youth group. My mother has even said you're welcome to come over early and have dinner with us. I'm making a chocolate fondue for dessert – didn't you say that was your favorite?"

I hide my snort of laughter with a forced cough. God, Delly is transparent. If she knew anything about Peeta, she'd stop trying to bait him with dates disguised as church activities. He hates it when girls try to capitalize on his faith like that.

"Thanks for the invitation," Peeta says with a polite smile. "But I'm actually having dinner with Katniss tonight."

I lift my eyebrows. That's news to me.

"Maybe I'll be able to make it to a prayer meeting some other time," he finishes smoothly, rejecting Delly in the nicest way possible.

"Oh! Alright then," she says cheerfully, though she's obviously disappointed. "Katniss, you're always welcome to come, too," she adds at the last minute. "Well… have a great afternoon!"

Peeta waves at her as she retreats across the schoolyard, then turns back to me.

"So what's for dinner?" I smirk.

"I just needed an excuse," Peeta sighs. "Don't get me wrong, prayer is great and all, but –"

"I know. Youth group activities are…" I wrinkle my nose.

"And Delly is so…"

"So _Delly?_" I suggest.

"Exactly."

We muffle our laughter with bites of our sandwiches.

"But if you're free tonight after work, I really would love to have dinner with you," Peeta says a minute later. "I mean, otherwise I just lied through my teeth."

Love. He'd _love_ to have dinner with me. I feel a rush of warmth and I know I'll be replaying his words in my head for the rest of the afternoon.

"Well, I wouldn't want to make you a liar," I answer with a little smile of my own.

* * *

Before I even have time to really process the fact that I just accepted a date with Peeta Mellark, I find myself sitting across from his busybody of a mother at their dining room table.

We haven't even started eating, and already she's told me that she knows all about my poverty and my parents being dead – which she politely refers to as my _unfortunate situation_ – and that she disapproves of Prim and I sharing a house with Gale, and that she'll take my "struggles" to her ladies' bible study group so they can pray for me regularly.

She informs me of this last point proudly and seems to be awaiting a response.

"Thank you?" I say uncertainly.

Mrs. Mellark's lips press together in a thin, disapproving line. "Of course," she answers shortly.

Peeta looks mortified.

"Alright. So, let's eat," he announces, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Katniss, why don't you say grace?" his father offers gently. I imagine he must save his voice for preaching, because he's barely spoken two words until now.

"I don't think –" Peeta starts, but his mother cuts him off.

"Oh, yes! She's our guest, after all," she reminds him. Then she looks at me pointedly, as if to say _I'm the eyes and ears of this town, and you're not fooling me._ I bet she's just waiting for me to screw up so she can point out what a heathen I am to her son. "Go ahead, dear," she prods.

"Alright," I gulp.

The Mellarks join hands with each other and bow their heads. Peeta picks up my fingers and squeezes them reassuringly.

My mouth is dry. I haven't prayed in so long. I think I'm supposed to say something about _our Heavenly Father _and finish with _amen_, but all I can remember is a little song my Father used to sing.

So I swallow hard, close my eyes, and sing it.

_Praise God from whom all blessings flow,_

_Praise Him ye creatures here below,_

_Praise Him above ye heavenly host,_

_Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost,_

_Amen_

When I open my eyes, the Mellarks are watching me. Peeta almost looks as if he's in pain. I fear I must've done something wrong, but he's still holding my hand, and he's making no move to let go.

"The Doxology," Pastor Mellark finally says, nodding with approval. "A classic."

"Well. That was… lovely," Mrs. Mellark reluctantly admits. "Thank you, Katniss."

* * *

"I'm so sorry," I tell Peeta as he's walking me home later that night. He was strangely silent throughout the remainder the meal, and my best guess is that I embarrassed him in front of his family.

But he only gives me a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"You know. For singing grace," I shrug. "It was all I could think of."

"Why on earth would you apologize for that?" Peeta asks in disbelief. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life."

I giggle because I think he must be kidding, but Peeta remains straight-faced in the pale moonlight. "It's true," he says softly, not taking his eyes of me.

"Oh," is all I manage to return, lowering my head. I'm thankful for the darkness that conceals my sloppy grin.

We fall into an awkward silence as we walk side-by-side, the air between us filled with a tension that wasn't there before. With each step, Peeta's arm grazes mine, giving me an adolescent sort of thrill which takes me by surprise. I've had dozens of naked bodies pressed up against mine, but none of them have ever given me goosebumps like this.

The only sounds are our footsteps on the gravel road and a chorus of bullfrogs in the swamp nearby. The sky above is clear and dark, speckled with twinkling white stars. A small part of me is sort of hoping that Peeta will take advantage of this moment to hold my hand. But he doesn't.

Instead, he abruptly stops right before we get to The Seam.

"Katniss," he says. "Katniss, this isn't going to work."

My stomach plummets and my body goes numb.

"What won't work?" I ask nervously. _Shit._ Did he somehow find out about the bet? Has he known all along, just like he knew about Madge?

"Us being friends," Peeta explains. "It's just not going to work."

It's not the accusation I was bracing myself to hear, but for some reason this explanation is far more frustrating.

"Why? Because your mother hates me?"

"No, no! It's not that," Peeta interjects.

"Well then what is it?" I huff. "Is it because I live in The Seam? Because I don't come from a good Christian family? Because I use food stamps and can't afford brand new clothes and –"

Peeta cuts me off by grabbing me around the waist and kissing me hard.

I'm completely shocked. Firstly, by the fact that he's kissing me, and secondly, by how good it feels.

"That's why," he breathes once his mouth leaves mine. He cups my face in his hands. "You're beautiful and funny and brave and loving – anyone with eyes can see how much you care about Prim. And when I held you that day at the lake it felt so good, and when you sang at dinner tonight I knew I was a goner. I've tried, but I can't just be your friend anymore, Katniss. Not when I want more."

Then he kisses me again.

Holy fuck, he's good at it. Really good. Either Peeta is the most talented virgin in town, or…

"You've done this before – real or not real?" I exhale shakily as our lips part.

"Real," he confirms.

"More than kissing?"

Peeta hesitates. I guess the whole pastor's kid thing is still ingrained in him when it comes to talking about sex. "Yeah," he finally admits. "A lot more than kissing. Does that bother you?"

"No."

Then he kisses me yet again. His lips find the cupid's bow of my mouth and start to suck at it gently, which I swear almost makes me pass out. I grab two fistfuls of his shirt to steady myself as he tightens his arms around my lower back and pulls my hips flush against his.

Shit. He's hard.

"Come home with me," I gasp between kisses.

Peeta shakes his head and leans his forehead against mine. "I can't tonight. My parents are expecting me back any minute."

"Tomorrow then?"

Instead of answering, his soft, warm lips meet mine once more. This kiss is slow and deep and passionate, and it leaves me reeling. I whimper softly and slide one of my hands up the back of Peeta's neck, curling my fingers into his hair, never wanting it to stop.

"Okay," he eventually breathes against my lips. "Tomorrow."

* * *

When I enter the house, Gale is in the living room. He looks up and takes in my flushed cheeks and messy hair, and I know there's no point in lying about why I missed dinner yet again. He can read it all over me.

"Have fun?" he asks.

"Tomorrow night," is all I say.

Gale nods once in understanding, and I retreat to my bedroom before we can discuss it any further.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm a ball of nervous energy the next day at school, excited for the evening's plans with Peeta, yet dreading them at the same time.

I don't know why, exactly. I've never been nervous about sex before. Not even my first time, when I'd basically bossed Gale around – _touch me here, put your lips there, don't be gentle_ – until he grew fed up with my commands and took control, pinning me to the bed and doing things that left me speechless and satisfied. I wasn't nervous during my first time with another girl, either, or the first time I had two guys at once.

But the thought of having Peeta in my bed fills my stomach with butterflies.

At noon, I see him standing by a bank of lockers with his friends. I cast him a secretive look as I pass and he returns it with a grin. I have to give him credit – if he's anywhere near as nervous as I am about tonight, he's not letting it show.

I've barely passed him when he suddenly calls out, "Katniss! Wait!"

Before I can respond, Peeta is at my side. He grabs my hand and laces his fingers with mine. "I thought about you all night," he whispers in my ear, pulling me close. "C'mon. Let's go out for lunch today."

He tells his friends he'll see them later and starts to walk, but I remain rooted to the spot. My feet have stopped working.

"Katniss? Is something wrong?"

Yes, something's wrong! He's holding my hand. In the middle of the hallway, in front of his friends and everyone else. What is he thinking?

Even after last night's kisses I hadn't expected more than a sly, knowing smile or two to pass between us, at least in public. But here he is, practically announcing to everyone that we're more than friends. That his attraction to me is isn't a secret. That I'm not just some one-night stand, and he's not embarrassed to be seen with me.

All of a sudden, I want to cry.

"No." I swallow hard. "No, nothing's wrong. Lunch sounds great."

"Good," Peeta smiles, tugging me forward playfully. "Let's go."

His hand is warm and solid and reassuring. People turn and look at us as we walk through the hallway, but Peeta acts as though he doesn't notice, and their stares wouldn't matter to him even if he did. As for me, I feel like a balloon about to burst. I have to bite my lips just to keep myself from breaking into giddy laughter.

_Peeta is holding my hand in front of everyone._ And I like it.

I've been fucked six ways from Sunday, but no boy has ever held my hand. I've never felt this way before. I never knew it was even possible to feel this way. All those stupid lovey-dovey clichés I've heard suddenly start to make sense. _Head over heels. Walking on air. On cloud nine._ I'm all of those things at once, and more.

It's only when I catch Madge Undersee glaring icily at our clasped hands that I'm plunged back into reality.

This isn't real. Peeta believes we have a real relationship, but we don't. It's just a game. And after tonight, that game will be over.

"Katniss?"

"Hmm?"

"I said I'll sneak out after my parents are asleep so I can stay the whole night," he grins mischievously. "Okay?"

In my head, I know I should put a stop to this now, before it progresses any further. But my heart isn't willing to let go that easily.

"Okay," is all that comes out of my mouth.

* * *

"Peeta, I have something I need to tell you."

I exhale heavily, pace around the living room, and try again.

"Peeta, look. There's something you should know. About us."

No, no. None of these words sound right – too forced, too scripted.

It's past eleven o'clock. Prim is in bed, Gale is working the late shift and will be home at midnight, and Peeta's due to show up at the door any second. What on earth am I going to tell him?

I throw my hands in the air. "Hey Peeta, guess what? This has all been a big joke! By the way, Gale is going to walk in and join us, if you don't mind. Still like me?"

Ugh. It sounds even uglier aloud.

My self-loathing is interrupted by a knock at the door. _Shit._

I reach for the doorknob and steel myself to just tell him before anything else can happen. Before we can kiss, before he even sets foot inside. _Peeta, I need to talk to you about something._

I open the door.

"Peeta…" I start. But my courage is instantly sapped away.

He's standing on my doorstep, holding a bouquet of purple and white wildflowers. "For you," he says, stepping towards me rather shyly, slipping his arm around my waist and planting a tender kiss on my cheek.

I melt against his chest.

"You didn't have to do this," I choke out after a silence that seems to last forever.

"I wanted tonight to be special," he explains. Then he tilts my chin upwards and his soft lips find mine.

_Don't kiss him!_ part of my mind screams. _Don't do it. You're in over your head!_ But try as I might to make my lips stiff and unyielding, Peeta is just too damn good for me to resist.

I set the beautiful flowers on the coffee table, grab him by the collar of his jacket, and - fusing myself to his incredible lips once more - pull him towards my bedroom.

"P-Peeta," I gasp as we stumble into the door, making one last-ditch effort to put a stop to things. "There's something… I have to tell you something. You might not like it."

"What is it?" he breathes into my ear, slipping his hands down the back of my pants and squeezing my ass. He starts to kiss my neck and my eyelids flutter closed.

"Um… it's that… I have to tell you," I fumble. What did I have to tell him, again?

"Mmm?" Peeta hums against my skin.

"Uh, I have to tell you that… that Prim is asleep just down the hall," I finally blurt out, pulling his head away from my neck.

Instead of being deterred, Peeta just looks into my eyes with amusement, like a kid on Christmas morning. "Then we'll have to be quiet," he whispers, kissing me again.

He backs me into the room and we collapse onto the bed together. His hands seem to be everywhere, and his touch is perfect - just the right balance of firmness, roughness and feather-light teasing. When he peels my shirt away and palms my breasts, rolling each nipple between thumb and forefinger, I can't help but throw my head back and moan loudly.

"Shhh," he laughs, leaving a trail of wet kisses between my breasts. "We have to be quiet, remember?"

"I don't care," I gasp, too far gone to be concerned about our volume or anything else for that matter. I wrap my legs around Peeta's waist and grind my hips into his. "I want you."

"Katinss," he breathes. "I want you, too." And then he's kissing me again.

These kisses are different from the ones I've experienced before – passionate and addictive, yes, but Peeta's also strangely patient, as if he's savoring the way I taste and smell and feel. I can feel his hard cock straining against the front of his pants, and I'm soaked right through my underwear, but even though our bodies are ready, he seems to be in no rush to skip ahead to the sex part.

That's when it starts to dawn on me that maybe this is what _making love_ is. I always thought that phrase was just a polite way of describing boring, monotonous sex, but this is anything but. This is wild and electric and playful and messy. But there's something else, too; something underneath the action that makes even the gentle stroke of Peeta's knuckles down the side of my ribcage utterly arousing.

It's the trust, I realize. The friendship, the jokes, the comfort, the shared meals, the wildflowers, the attraction building up over weeks and weeks – that's what's making this so good.

"You're so soft. You're lovely. You're perfect," Peeta mumbles against my skin. His hot breath makes me shiver. His fingers trail down to the waistband of my jeans, slipping underneath, into the damp heat between my thighs, and I whimper in pleasure. He kisses me again, so long and so deep that my head swims. I might be suffocating, but if I am, this is the best way to die.

Some part of my brain registers the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. Footsteps in the hallway. Water running in the bathroom. Gale is home, and any second, he will walk in and climb into bed with us.

Usually that would turn me on, but this time it doesn't.

All at once, I realize I don't want to share this moment with anyone but Peeta.

As if reading my mind, Peeta rolls to the side and pulls me up against him so we're nose-to-nose. He starts stroking my hair. "I don't do this with just anyone," he whispers. "Only someone I really care about. And maybe it's too soon, but…"

My chest tightens. I know what he's going to say. He's going to say he's falling in love with me.

At the same moment, the water in the bathroom stops running.

I can't do this. I can't.

I shove Peeta away from me with both hands and stand up. "You have to go home. You have to go home right now," I tell him shakily.

"What?" Peeta sits up.

"Go! Go now!"

"Katniss-"

"Get out!" I shout.

"Hey," Peeta says gently, standing up and trying to hold me, but I shrug him away and start to cry. "Katniss, what's the matter?"

"Get out of my room, get out of my house," I whimper. "I need you to leave, right now."

Peeta shakes his head. "No. I'm not going to leave you like this. Whatever is upsetting you, we can fix it. Let me help you fix it."

"No! This can't be fixed!" I wail. How can Peeta fix things when he didn't do anything wrong? He's not the problem – I am. He deserves so much better than what I can give him. "Just get out!" I cry. "Just leave me alone!"

Before Peeta can say another word, the bedroom door flies open with such force that the doorknob slams into the drywall, leaving a hole. We both startle and take a step back.

Gale stands there wearing nothing but a towel and a look of rage on his face.

"What did you do?" he barks at Peeta. "What did you do to her?"

At first, Peeta looks shocked by Gale's protective outburst. Then, slowly, he starts to put the pieces together. I can see it on his face. It's as if the three of us just being in the same room has revealed everything I've been trying to tell him all evening.

"Katniss?" Peeta asks, his voice wavering. He turns to me with such a pained, heartbroken expression that I can't bear it.

I bolt from the bedroom and fly down the hall, locking myself in the bathroom. There I turn on the shower to drown out my sobs and huddle under the spray until my tears run out and the hot water runs out, too.

When I eventually emerge, pale and puffy-eyed, Peeta has left. Gale is sitting on the couch, staring off into space. He's holding one of the purple wildflowers from my bouquet, spinning it slowly between his fingers.

"You win," I say hoarsely.

He looks up.

"You were right. I can't do it."

Then I retreat to my room and close the door quietly behind me.


End file.
